


I'll take the time (and love you more)

by adhoori



Category: Actor RPF, Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 09:39:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13738137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adhoori/pseuds/adhoori
Summary: Armie reaches out first, cupping Timmy’s neck, fingers splayed into his curls, thumb stroking the underside of his jaw and watches a flurry of emotions make their way through Timmy’s eyes before he whispers, “I wanted to win,” so softly that Armie isn’t quite sure he said it at all.For the anon who prompted: do you think you could write a little fluffy something with Armie and Timmy comforting each other on not winning any golden globe? I'm broken-hearted for them.





	I'll take the time (and love you more)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, this is so late, but our boys didn't win in the meantime so hopefully, this will still make you feel better lol. Title is from [Old and Now by Rosemary & Garlic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CPF1CnN4Tfg) which for some reason I listened to on repeat while writing this.

The after-party is finally over and they stumble into the car, more than a little tipsy. The driver closes the door behind Timmy who flops down the seat, head tilted back, eyes closed. Armie watches him swallow, and then exhale, his throat suddenly dry as Timmy’s hands work the top button of his shirt open. He mirrors the exercise and feels better instantly. As if on cue, Timmy turns to look him, lips slightly curved in a rueful smile and Armie looks back, not knowing what to say. He pats the spot next to him and Timmy scoots towards him, tucking his head into Armie’s shoulder. His hands find purchase in Timmy’s hair as they often do, and he trails his fingers through the unruly curls, seeing some of the tension leave Timmy’s body.

The rest of the car ride passes in silence and they reach the hotel soon enough. Armie blinks furiously to orient himself as he gets out of the car, the alcohol finally catching up to him after the drive. He holds out a hand for Timmy who shoots a grateful look at him before getting out of the car, looking equally disoriented.

“I’m drunk,” Timmy announces and Armie huffs a laugh at his flushed face.

They stand outside for a moment, the air crisp against their faces and he feels like he can finally walk, so he places palm at the small of Timmy’s back, leading them into the hotel. Timmy sticks close to him, content in being led to the elevator. This close, he smells of cologne mixed with the smell of new clothes. They walk in silence through the lobby and make their way to the elevator.  He smiles at Timmy’s multiple attempts to keep the hair out of his eyes and waits for the elevator doors to slide shut before tucking the stray curl firmly behind Timmy’s ear, hand lingering for a moment too long when Timmy tucks his face into it, smiling softly.

The elevator doors slide open and Armie follows Timmy out. They make short work of getting to their rooms, Armie opens his and doesn’t bother asking before pulling Timmy inside, and into his arms, kicking the door shut with his foot. A moment goes by before he feels Timmy’s arms slip around his waist. He pulls back to cup Timmy’s face, fingers curling in his hair before leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss. He tastes like the alcohol they had, lips still lined with what tasted like the salt from their cocktail glasses. He pulls back and intertwines their fingers as he steps into the kitchen and pulls out two bottles of water, holding one out to Timmy, who accepts it gratefully and gulps it down.

He shrugs off his jacket, tucks out his shirt and ruffles a hand through his perfectly styled hair, feeling more like himself every second. The suits, the ties, the tight shoes were stifling in a way he still hadn’t gotten used to. He watches Timmy follow suit before fishing out a t-shirt and sweatpants and heading to the bathroom. Armie feels something in his chest twinge at how quiet Timmy has been all evening. He wants to give him space but he also wants to tell him it’s going to be okay, that he’s _so young_ and that he’s just starting, but he can’t seem to bring himself to say it, the words stuck in his throat.

Armie pulls out his own sweatpants, looks at the gray sweats against the navy blue comforter, hears the steady hum of the air conditioning and something inside of him shifts. He suddenly feels a bone-deep exhaustion and sits down on the bed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms as he recognizes the familiar feeling of having thrown all of him into something and not getting the recognition. It feels different this time because doing the movie had transformed his _life_ and he couldn’t believe that the world was carrying on just the same when _he_ had changed irrevocably, when he felt like a different person.

It wasn’t about the awards, it never was. Doing the movie, getting to work with Luca, having the privilege to be a part of something so _beautiful_ , falling in love with Timmy, and Timmy loving him _back_? That was _everything_. But he couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t stand the tiny heartbreak that happened behind Timmy’s eyes each time his name wasn’t called out. And if he was being honest, no matter how much they said the awards didn’t matter, that getting to make this film was more important, _and it was_ , it wasn’t until hearing someone else’s name being called out that he realized he’d _wanted to win_. That he wants Timmy to win. And Luca. And everyone else involved with this project that had given him the courage to do things he’d never thought he would be able to.

“Armie?”

He’s startled by Timmy’s hand on his shoulder, and he inhales sharply, surprised.

“Sorry, I just- yeah. I’m gonna go get changed,” he fumbles, grabbing the sweatpants and slipping away, shutting the bathroom door behind him.

The belt comes off first, followed by the rest of his clothes and he quickly puts on his sweats before splashing his face with water and wiping it clean. He stands there, hands on either side of the sink, head bowed, eyes closed as he forces himself to feel some semblance of normalcy. He can’t help but feel this sense of loss, as if this film and all that came with it was slipping out of his hands, as if the past year had flown by. As if, the end was near and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He exhales shakily, opens the door and pads across the room towards the bed where Timmy is already tucked in, checking his phone. He slips in, immediately silences his phone and sets it aside. He turns towards Timmy patiently watching him send a few quick texts before leaving his phone on the nightstand and facing Armie, his hands tucked under the pillow. Armie reaches out first, cupping Timmy’s neck, fingers splayed into his curls, thumb stroking the underside of his jaw and watches a flurry of emotions make their way through Timmy’s eyes before he whispers, “I wanted to win,” so softly that Armie isn’t quite sure he said it at all. He looks at Timmy who, right this second, looks achingly young, almost ashamed that he’d admitted that.

He doesn’t know what to say and he must’ve waited too long because Timmy is barrelling on. “I know, it’s dumb, I couldn’t have possibly-I mean, there’s Gary Oldman and Daniel Day Lewis and I’m just-”

“You deserved to win,” he says. Timmy looks like he’s about to scoff at the idea, so he continues. “You did. Award shows,” he begins, before pausing to gather his thoughts.

“Award shows aren’t a measure of your talent. I mean, they _are_ in a way but these big ones are often more about politics and who can campaign harder than they are about anything else. You gave a performance that most actors I know _still can’t_.”

“That can’t possibly be-”

“It _is_ . And it’s okay to want to win, Timmy. You’re always going to want to win. But you’re _twenty-two_ . There’s going to be so many more awards. So many golden globes, so many _Oscars_ ,” he adds, smiling conspiratorially at Timmy’s eye roll.

“Yeah but, what if I’ve-like what if this is the best I can do?”

Armie snorts a laugh and then laughs some more at Timmy’s affronted face. “I’m pretty sure, people are fucking _terrified_ of how good you are. I promise you, you haven’t peaked.”

He’s rewarded with a small laugh, “Pretty sure, _no one_ is terrified of me,” Timmy says, shuffling closer.

“Oh, I’m sure they are. I bet Daniel Day Lewis is shitting his pants.”

He receives a startled laugh and joins Timmy, mostly just laughing at how he’s so easily amused. They lie there for a while like that, cheeks flushed, and he looks at Timmy who’s staring at the ceiling ardently, toying with his words. He waits for him to finish processing whatever he’s thinking of this time when Timmy breaks the silence.

“I wanted you to win too.”

Armie doesn’t know what to say to that so he settles for a smile, but he must’ve given something away because Timmy is leaning on his elbows, looking at him earnestly, brows furrowed.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Act like you didn’t deserve to win too!”

“I’m not-”

“You _are_. Armie,” he says and cups Armie’s face, looks into his eyes in a way that makes Armie want to squirm.

“There’s. No. Elio. Without. Oliver,” Timmy says, punctuating each word with a kiss and Armie feels his face flush.

“There isn’t. I couldn’t have done this without you, not to this level. You make me a better actor, a better _person_.”

Armie doesn’t know what to say to that either, so he settles for a kiss. _I love you_ , he thinks, as Timmy kisses him back, warm and slow, tasting like toothpaste. Timmy pulls back and shifts around, before laying his head on Armie’s shoulder, his face impossibly close and Armie smiles back helplessly, at the soft, happy smile he receives.

“I love you,” he says, fighting a yawn. It’s like the night is suddenly catching up to him, he’s comfortably warm and feels like he could fall asleep.

He smiles at Timmy yawning, before burrowing his head further into Armie’s shoulder, nuzzling him. “Love you too,” he says, dropping a kiss on his shoulder.

Armie shifts and throws his other arm over Timmy’s waist. He hears a muffled _g’night Armie_ and kisses Timmy’s neck in response before letting his eyes fall shut, and sleep take over.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked it, leave a comment/kudos if you did, feedback is always appreciated! I'm on tumblr at [hammer-chalamet](http://hammer-chalamet.tumblr.com/) and I'm still lowkey surprised by the fact that I have that url lol.


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